


you're a star (in nobody's eyes but mine)

by cupidsintern



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Drunkenness, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28997673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern
Summary: “Fuck you, man.” Steve laughs again, and Billy flinches at the sound a little because Steve sounds really and truly unhappy. “You don’t get it. No one gets it. Nobody takes high school relationships seriously or whatever but, I really loved her. And now she’s all happy and shit and I'm stuck being miserable forced to stare at you all the time and how you got all my old friends and how fucking cool and perfect you are and you think you get it but you don’t-”“I ‘get’ plenty.” Billy shoots back, even though it's probably poor taste to argue with a drunk guy. Billy’s skin prickles at the words ‘cool’ and ‘perfect.’ “I’m doing you a favor. So do yourself a favor and shut up before you say anything you'll regret.”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 151





	you're a star (in nobody's eyes but mine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlashMountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashMountain/gifts).
  * Inspired by [orange is loose and warm and ripples like juice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846224) by [FlashMountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashMountain/pseuds/FlashMountain). 



> its simons birthday! happy birthday simon! ur a grandpa. and ur gay. 
> 
> u know I love Orange (the fic) so i wrote u this as like. the inverse of that! i love u!

Billy's only been at this party an hour and Cindy Harris has been trying to get with him the entire time. She found him like ten minutes after he arrived and he’d hardly had enough to drink to convince himself that the way she kept trying to hold his hand was fine. The way she kept trying to link their arms, tugged on a piece of hair and told him how she ‘just loved when guys were comfortable in their masculinity’ was fine. 

The debate in his head between letting Cindy Harris do whatever she wanted with him and straight up leaving was making him useless enough to just sort of vaguely flirt back. And try to always have someone else in their conversation. And keep drinking, but he doesn’t really have time for that because they’re alone for all of two seconds in a corner of the party when Cindy decides she could take this as an opportunity to sit on his fucking lap. 

He practically pushes her off with an easy excuse of needing another drink. Because he does. Desperately. 

And walking to the drink table, Billy honestly thinks about leaving. Just, bailing early. Which would make him look really bad cause he only got here an hour ago and has only said hi to half the people that he needs to ‘keep up appearances’ with but he’s so tired. Everything makes him tired. The only thing left at the table is peach vodka. And someone tells him someone else left to get more beer at least, but Billy takes that as a sign that he should just go. Not home. Just somewhere else. He’s never anywhere he feels like he can actually be and he feels too young for how old he’s supposed to be- he’s an adult now.

He really wants to leave. Before Cindy finds him and asks him what's taking him so long to force down a couple shots of peach vodka that are almost as cloying as the peachy smell of her perfume- maybe the two will cancel each other out. Maybe if Billy drinks enough he just, wont remember a single fucking terrible time wasting space filling thing that happens tonight but he can’t handle that. What if he says something he’ll regret. Something he doesn't actually want other people to know, doesn’t want that  _ one specific person  _ to know, and-

Speak of the devil. Steve Harrington emerges from the crowd, trips on his own feet, cheeks flushed, eyes a little too glassy. He’s also looking disappointed at the barren drink table, but he looks like he’s only halfway registering it. And for a second Billy thinks maybe Steve’s actually winning public favor again, because a couple people are staring at him, but then Billy catches a couple pieces of what they're saying, and from the sound of it, Steve’s just falling farther- “why’d he even show up he’s like, way too old to even be a senior- dumbshit” and “still completely hung up on that Wheeler chick- who does he think he’s fooling-” and Billy doesn't know what possesses him to do it but-

“Harrington, hey,” Billy turns Steve to look at him. And Steve does look at him, but he’s so smashed, he almost falls into the support of Billy's arm-

“William. Hargrove.” The words fall out of Steve’s mouth like he’s trying to remember how whispering works. People are still staring at him. Much as Billy’d like everyone to believe he enjoys this, it makes his stomach twist. Defensive. 

“Man, you're out of it.” Billy says, almost to himself, painfully aware of the fact that Steve is taller than him only because it seems like maybe the guy’s gonna fall over. “Hey, look man. Maybe you should head home.”

“Home?” Steve laughs a little, his breath reeks. “Why? I'm the fucking… life of the party, right? Life of the... '' Steve trails off, tries to take a sip out of the cup in his hand and looks surprised when there's nothing in it. He forgot. 

Billy hates himself so much he can't tell if this makes him hate himself more or less but he grabs Steve’s shoulders and just starts pulling him back toward the front door, tries to ignore everyone’s stares- not like they’re for him, just that he wishes they would stare at Steve (Billy sort of had a monopoly on that usually), as he says “yeah, okay, I'm driving you home.”

“What? No, man I'm- I’m good.” Steve drags out the word good, gives it like six Os. “Don’t even.  _ Want  _ to go home.”   
“Neither do I.” Billy mumbles. 

“Hey, Billy.” Steve pushes Billy's hands away when they get to the front steps- the cool air is nice. Billy’s almost forgotten about Cindy breathing down his neck, but this is sort of the opposite end of that problem. “I’m fine man.” Steve says. He’s not convincing, but it’s clear he’s trying to be. “I’m just, just blowing off steam, you know. You get it.” Steve pushes Billy’s shoulder a little. It is the  _ weakest  _ thing. “Besides, this is like, good for me or whatever” Steve does not seem to have noticed Billy steering him down the front steps and out onto the sidewalk- Billy didn’t park far. Steve keeps talking. “I’ve had. Such a shit couple of months. This is. This is good because like. And you know I don't. I'm not even that dr- drunk. I just really needed to blow off some steam. And everyone being all weird about it, asking me questions and stuff.” 

Billy had actually never encountered Steve like this. Like, this fucked up, rambling, clearly fronting version of Steve. Billy doesn't so much as interject, but Steve keeps talking, nearly incoherent, and honestly Billy’s trying to tune it out because from the sound of it Steve’s been way too forthcoming for the evening so far-

“Did you see-” He pauses like he might hiccup. Then he doesn't, and keeps talking. “Did you see. Nancy was here. Brought Jonathan. They looked like they were having fun.”

Billy sighs, still dragging Steve along the sidewalk in the January air that had gone from crisp to freezing in less than three minutes. 

“And like. Good for them, you know? Good for. Them. I don’t care.”

Billy’s rolling his eyes at himself, crossing to where he parked and actually having to look over his shoulder to make sure Steve’s still following him. 

“Except I kinda do care,” Steve laughs, it hurts to hear. “She didn't even want to come to parties with me. Suddenly they’re like, her thing. But whatever. I mean that’s none of my business. She seems happy. Christ. Like, really happy-”   
“Harrington,” Billy looks up over his car hood at Steve before sliding into the driver's seat. “Seriously. Shut up.”

“Fuck you, man.” Steve laughs again, and Billy flinches at the sound a little because Steve sounds really and truly unhappy. “You don’t get it. No one gets it. Nobody takes high school relationships seriously or whatever but, I really loved her. And now she’s all happy and shit and I'm stuck being miserable forced to stare at you all the time and how you got all my old friends and how fucking cool and perfect you are and you think you get it but you don’t-”

“I ‘get’ plenty.” Billy shoots back, even though it's probably poor taste to argue with a drunk guy. Billy’s skin prickles at the words ‘cool’ and ‘perfect.’ “I’m doing you a  _ favor.  _ So do yourself a favor and shut up before you say anything you'll regret.”

Steve scoffs- like actually scoffs. “Like I’m gonna remember any of this-”

Billy grabs his arm and yanks him down into the car.    
Steve trips a little. Billy feels bad. 

Especially now that Steve has switched from chatty heartbreak to sullen silence. 

Billy moves to start his car. Then realizes he’s gonna need Steve's address if he wants to complete this insane side quest he picked up. 

“You can do better. Than Nancy.” Billy says finally, which catches Steve's attention. “Even if she was ‘all that’.” He puts air quotes around the words. 

“You said that before.” Steve leans back in the passenger's seat a little. “After practice.”

“Well. I’m right.”

“You talk to me a lot more now. Than you used to.” Steve muses, and Billy’s grip on his key tightens a little. “Cause you were such a dick, but now you like, talk to me sometimes. It’s like-”

“I’m just being nice. Civil.” Billy corrects himself. He’s not being nice.

“This is nice.” Steve moves his hand in a small circle, gesturing generally at Billy’s car. “Nice of you to drive me home.”

“Someone had to.” Billy says. He gets Steve’s address out of him, thanks god his heater works as well as it does on the drive over. Which is mostly silent. 

Which is. Nice. 

Billy is going to never ever ever forgive himself for doing this simple favor though because they get to Steve's house, and Billy parks in Steve Harrington’s goddamn gravel driveway of a truly massive house- and Steve doesn't move to get out. 

Billy pops his own door open, then stops when he notices Steve’s expression.    
“I think it’s me.” Steve says. Cryptic. 

“What is?” 

“Nobody ever stays. I think it’s my fault.”

It’s about then that Billy notices no other cars in Steve's driveway and feels the feelings he doesn't think about twist sharply in his chest- Steve isn’t going home to anyone. No parents to avoid. Nobody to sleepover- Billy has a thought he immediately crams back down. 

“Man, don’t. Don’t say that.” Billy tires, not like he’s good at this sort of thing.

“Why not? It’s true.” Steve stares at his hands. “Maybe it’s something I’m doing, or just how I am-”

“Steve,” Billy has really and truly lost his mind. “I swear to god, it’s not you-”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” 

It’s a rhetorical question. 

Billy has a couple seconds to weigh his options here- because he knows what he  _ wants  _ to do. And in a split second he’s made up his mind because Steve looks so miserable in the moonlight in Billy's passenger seat and Billy would at any point give anything just to make sure Steve was happy. For whatever reason. And like Steve said- he’s not gonna remember any of this very well. And because Billy’s a fucking idiot with a death wish, he goes:

“It’s just not, okay? I should know.” And pushes his door open to get out of the car.

He’s just standing outside in the January cold when he realizes he could have just dropped Steve off, and now Steve’s gonna expect him to walk up with him probably, so he turns on his heel to walk to the doorstep when-

“What does that mean?” Steve asks. He’s standing up, leaning way too heavily on the car door. Billy turns to look at him- his breath curls up from where his lips must be chapped to be that pink.    
“What do you think,” Billy says much quieter back. 

Steve stumbles a little- Billy has to go and catch him for the second time this evening. 

Steve seems to have gotten to a sleepy phase in his drunkenness because he actually needs help to walk to the front of his house. And then, slumped against the doorway he needs Billy to find where the key is hidden under a strategically placed rock and  _ then _ they get inside and Steve collapses onto his couch and he hasn't said anything this whole time and Billys gonna bail but-   
“Wait.”

Billy waits. He’s standing at the end of the couch nearest Steve. 

“Thank you.”

Billy chews his cheek a little. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Steve reconsiders how he’s gonna say this next part. “Do you.” He stops again. “Is that why you were so mean to me?”

Billy doesn't say anything. He feels like shit.

“I wouldn't have cared. I don’t.”

Still nothing. 

“That’s so insane.” He mumbles, and he sounds too-sleepy again because he says “I’ve been so fucking jealous of you for ages man. Felt like you were always like, one step ahead… so cool.” 

“Promise not to remember any of this?” Billy speaks finally.

Steve lifts his hand, his fingers bend clumsily, “Scout’s honor.”

“Great.” And Billy’s gonna leave, he’s gonna go and leave all this here on this one magical, trash night. But then Steve’s raised hand makes contact with Billy’s cheek- his hand is warm. His skin is so soft. Billy’s eyes close before he can stop them, barely stops himself from sighing like a weight is off his shoulders.

“Always figured you hated me…” Steve mumbles. 

“I did.” Billy has to convince himself to pull away from Steve's touch. 

“But you don’t now?”

Billy doesn't respond. Because he hates  _ this _ , being here, now, like this, with the part of Steve's brain that doesn't hit record, and thank god for that because honestly Billy can’t afford to fall for a new set of big brown eyes. Not here. Not now. 

But he doesn’t hate Steve. Not anymore at least. 

Billy stands up, walks around the coffee table and toward the door. And he sort of wonders if Steve’s gonna say anything else to try and stop him, but he looks over his shoulder when he gets to the doorway, and Steve's fallen asleep. The hand that so gently touched Billy’s cheek just seconds ago lies lax, knuckles brushing the floor.

Billy goes home. 

At school on Monday, Billy really honest to god thinks Steve won’t remember any of their conversation, so he panics a bit when he sees Steve walking towards him at passing period but-

“Dude!” Steve practically bounds up to him. “I heard you drove me home on Friday and, shit, I just wanted to say thank you? That was fucking embarrassing, so I’m glad someone had my back.”

“Oh, sure,” relief washes over Billy, “Don’t mention it.”

“I just feel like you know, shit was kinda sticky for a sec, but that was really cool of you to do.”   
Billy likes this very suddenly. He likes Steve talking to him. He’s never really had an amicable conversation with him before. “Watch it, you could ruin my reputation.” He smiles a little, likes how easily Steve laughs at the joke. 

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell ‘em you’re still a cold-hearted bad boy.”   
Billy laughs a little back. 

Steve leaves for class. 

Billy thinks maybe that's gonna be it. 

Billy thinks about Steve for the rest of the day. If it was bad before it was horrible now. Steve and how his house smells like it's all just been vacuumed. Steve and how crunchy the gravel in his driveway is. Steve and his smooth fingertips that Billy would never get to feel again but at least they could maybe sort of be friends now but was that just worse. 

And it was already cold after school, when Billy hid under the bleachers to smoke so no one would bother him, so it would be yet more freezing later tonight. Billy should probably think of something to do so he wouldn't just stare at his ceiling thinking of Steve-

“Hey.” 

Billy looked up. He was not used to being successfully snuck up on. It was Steve. Which he knew from the voice, and who had probably only found him because he was taking the backway around to the parking lot. 

Billy immediately added this version of Steve to the ongoing list of the versions he had in his head. Cold weather Steve. Grey scarf, hands fisted in pockets, cheeks pink- but not as pink as they got when he was blackout drunk.   
“Howdy.” Billy said like he couldn’t help himself. 

Steve paused for a second. “Don’t suppose you’ve got another one of those you’d be willing to give up.” He pushed his pocket out a little, gesturing at the half-smoked cigarette in Billy’s hand. 

“Give up? No. Sell? Maybe.”

“Sell?” Steve smiled- his teeth were so white. 

“I know you got the money, pretty boy.” Billy was already pulling the pack from his pocket though, more than willing to give one up for this cause. 

Steve sits on a low beam across from Billy- closer than they’d probably be if they weren't under the bleachers. Billy has a crisis of whether or not he should offer to light the cigarette he hands Steve when Steve pulls out his own light- a nice one too. 

Billy thinks maybe they might smoke in silence, and god that would be nice on its own. But Steve takes just one drag and then speaks again. 

“Seriously, thank you for driving me home.”

And Billy’s just pulled the cig from his own lips, is halfway to saying “seriously, don't mention it,” in an only slightly mocking tone when Steve leans in- falls forward a bit, but Billy catches him- and kisses him.

Which should take Billy by surprise, and it does his brain, but not the rest of him because the kiss is perfectly matched- and Steve tastes like brand name chapstick and the one puff of a cigarette he just had and something sweet, too. Maybe an apple. 

Billy thinks this can’t be real. And then is terrified that it's a trap or something, and then can't think anything at all because Steve’s parted his lips just a little, tilted his head more and reached for Billy's forearm like this is something he’s always wanted to do. 

Then he pulls back. 

Steve says, through an apologetic smile, like he’s admitting a secret: “I don’t think I was as drunk as we thought.”

Then he stands, and walks off. Still smoking the cigarette Billy gave him. 

Billy realizes Steve probably wasn't just coming from the parking lot- Steve had probably been looking for him. 


End file.
